


Erudition

by RavensKeeper721



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavensKeeper721/pseuds/RavensKeeper721
Summary: Knowledge is power. It always has been. What if it's too much for a young witch to handle? What if someone was so hungry for power, he'd be willing to push aside his hatred for anyone who isn't pureblood to gain it? Hermione's found herself in a predicament she won't be able to get out of without the help of an unlikely source.





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story started on FanFiction. This will hold more explicit descriptions of what's happening and is for Mature audiences only!

"They took her!"

"Ron, calm down-"

"They bloody took her!"

Harry stared long and hard at Ron. The dirt and grime clinging to every crevice of their bodies became more prominent as the dust began to dissipate in the Great Hall from the destruction the Death Eaters had left behind. His clothes felt like they were made of lead, dragging him down; or maybe it was his muscles. Either way, it was a struggle to remain standing, hunching over as he tried to catch his breath.

"Took who, Ron? Took wh-"

Harry looked up at his friend, his fierce gaze meeting with his depleted one. A feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Eyes took on a note of concern and Harry frantically searched the faces of the crowd gathering before him. All of them looked frightened, exhausted, but above all else, distraught.

His eyes burned from the dust and he rubbed at the corners of his eyes, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. How'd they get into the castle? Why did they just leave? Where was...

"Hermione..."

* * *

 

"Get your filthy hands off me!"

Hermione snarled at whoever was dragging her along, yanking herself this way and that and eventually letting him deal with her body weight by simply letting gravity do its job. The man gave a huff before effortlessly throwing her over his shoulder, her hands bound together with rope. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she knew that would do her no good; not in the Dark Forest at least.

"Mudblood's got 'erself an attitude! Why d'ya think 'e wants 'er o' all people, huh?"

"We don't ask questions. We do what the Dark Lord wants. That's it."

Hermione swallowed hard, panic setting in. She knew what Voldemort did to mudbloods and she was not about to become just another corpse. She had to think logically, despite the deep set fear that was slowly spreading through her body like liquid fire. Hermione Granger was not a quitter. She was one of the most powerful witches of her generation! She could get out of this. Hell, she had used a Confundus charm on Cormac two years ago without a wand. That in and of itself was a feat not even mastered by accomplished wizards.

Hermione looked around her, as much as someone could look when draped over another's shoulder. She could see the top of a wand coming out of the man's back pocket and took a deep breath.

" _Relashio,_ " she whispered, eyes closing in concentration.

When she opened them, the rope around her hands loosened enough for her to be able to free her hands. Hermione stole a glance toward the other man, the lanky looking one with a top hat covered in multi-colored patches. He was too busy arguing with the brusque man carrying her to pay too much attention to what she was doing.

Good.

The next few minutes were excruciatingly slow as Hermione moved as slowly as humanly possible; trying not to give away her actions of reaching the wand he was carrying so carelessly.

As soon as her fingers wrapped around the handle of the wand, she let out a breath before whipping it out and flicking it at his feet, causing him to trip and fall. He did exactly what she thought he would. He dropped her, reaching out to stop himself from landing flat on his face. Hermione hit the ground and rolled to lessen the impact of the fall, not having time to react to the pain that sprang from her elbow.

Swinging out the wand, she shot a jet of red toward the patched hat man, watching him fly back, stupefied.

Hermione scrambled to her feet, point the wand at the man she had tripped.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

The girl took off running, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face as she dodged tree roots, jumping over rocks and ducking under low hanging branches as she tried to make her way out of the Dark Forest. They'd only assigned two men to handle her. They would be their first mistake.

" _Impedimenta!_ "

The young witch was frozen, her muscles locked and unable to move. Her balance was off kilter and she fell to the side, her head hitting the root of a tree hard. Darkness crept into the corners of her vision, but she remained awake long enough to see a form make its way toward her.

"Never send a man to do a woman's job..."

The woman's high pitched voice penetrated the air as Hermione's vision ebbed away, shrouded by darkness.


	2. Pain, Ideas, and Revelations

"Ron. Ron, stop it."

He had stalked off toward the Dark Forest, his wand at the ready. Harry knew the man was ready to walk right in there, after Hermione no doubt. The only hesitation Harry felt was because of the creatures that resided in the darkness. He knew the Death Eaters had a path, a way of navigating through the tumultuous forest. Ron was going in blind and that was something Harry couldn't allow despite his need to find his best friend.

"Let's take a moment. Think like Hermione. She wouldn't go in there without first having a plan!"

"I've got a bloody plan, Harry! And that's to get Hermione back!'

Startled by the sudden surge of emotion, Harry could see frustrated tears pricking at the corners of Ron's eyes and he reached out, pulling him into a supportive hug. Ron fought at first before letting himself just stand there, muscles tense.

"I know you're right Harry... I just… We need to get her back…"

"I know Ron. I know."

* * *

 

"You're never gonna guess who Lestrange brought back with her!"

Icy blue eyes lifted to stare at the Death Eater who had entered his room. Draco wasn't one for guessing games, despite the fear that penetrated him to the very core; he still held some influence over people. Besides, he'd just gotten back, wondering where Bellatrix had disappeared to after the group had left the castle.

"Do you honestly expect me to guess? Don't be daft. Tell me."

The Death Eater initiate straightened up and cleared his throat, obviously knowing that joking around with the man wasn't going to get him anywhere. Draco rolled his eyes and let his legs swing over the edge of the couch, hands pressed into the cushions on either side of him.

"The mudblood girl, Granger. Apparently the Dark Lord wanted her for something."

Draco's grip tightened, his nails digging into the fabric hard enough to tear a few strands. His eyes widened a fraction, but not enough for the man standing in front of him to question it.

"What does he want with her?"

There was a growing tightness in his chest, something he couldn't quite explain. A heat rose inside of him and it took him a moment to realize that it was panic. He was panicking.

"Who cares? All I know is that it's gonna be a good show!"

That said, the Death Eater left, a spring in his step. It disgusted Malfoy. He let himself fall back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling and trying to control his frantic breathing.

Draco had always been intrigued by the girl, acting out only because it was expected of him. He was a Pureblood, a ruthless Slytherin and heartless Death Eater. But that was his father's doing. His mother was much different and had showed him an alternative way of thinking Draco felt he could never do. She was compassionate, caring, and loyal to her loved ones, yet put on a front, just as Malfoy did now.

He slammed his fist down on one of the armrests, the wood groaning in protest against the abuse. The wizard was confused, pulled apart from trying to be like his father and doing what was obviously the right thing to do. Slytherins were self preserving, clever and witty, and yet, Malfoy didn't want to feel that way. He wanted to do something uncharacteristic.

He wanted to live without the constant fear.

Rising to his feet, Draco left the room and headed down in the direction the initiate had headed, knowing it would bring him into the Grand Hall of his home. After all, it was obvious that the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters would be residing in Malfoy Manor for the time being.

His Aunt approached him now, her hair wilder than it had ever been. Draco flinched immediately when he felt her hand on his shoulder. Her 'signs of affection' left a cold imprint on him, seeping into his skin and freezing him to the spot.

"Draco! We were wondering when you were going to show up! Here to see the catch of the day?'

There was a twisted smile on her face that distorted her appearance. She could have been beautiful if the darkness hadn't consumed her.

She yanked him forward and he let out a small grunt, her arms wrapping around him in a sinister embrace that only instilled fear and made the man uncomfortable. She was always so good at making him squirm.

In front of them, one of the Golden Trio was on the ground, eyes closed and hands tied tightly behind her back along with her ankles. Draco swallowed hard, unable to look longer than a few seconds. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at him.

"What's this? Are you feeling  _sympathy_? Draco, she's a filthy mudblood, tainting the Wizarding World with her impure blood! Remember your purpose here. Don't think I've forgotten what you did up at the top of the Astronomy tower."

Her words echoed in his head and he shut his eyes tightly, hands balling into fists. He yanked himself out of her grasp, stalking away from her and the bound witch.

* * *

 

"Where is the girl, Severus?"

Even now, the voice sent chills through the former Potions Master.

"Bellatrix Lestrange managed to apprehend her when the two that had been sent failed to contain her."

"Good, good."

The Dark Lord sat in a throne-like chair, overlooking the entire room. Two Death Eaters stood by the door, wands at the ready. A large boa wrapped itself around the legs of the chair and up the back of it. Its head rested on Voldemort's shoulder, its stare unwavering. Snape was never fond of the snake.

Voldemort pet the top of the creature's head, a small smile forming on his face that didn't reach his eyes. His smiles never did.

"Why do you need her, my Lord…?" He asked tentatively, knowing full well the consequences to those that knew too much.

"You are a trusted friend, Severus. So I'll tell you."

With a wave of his hand, the two Death Eaters left without a word.

"You said it yourself, as you watched over the students; recorded their progress. She is the most powerful witch of her age. I want to know why. How can a witch with two muggle parents become one of the most skilled witches of her time? I want to know what she is and how she can be stripped of such a right."

He stood up, walking toward the Professor. A boney hand reached out to grasp his shoulder with a deathly hold that forced the man to his knees. Severus looked up at his Leader, his gaze firm though a glimmer of fear was all too evident. If anyone said they weren't afraid of the Dark Lord, they were lying.

"We're going to watch her. Observe her. Put her into different scenarios and see how she reacts. I want to know how her mind works, what the source of her power is. Then, once I get everything I need, we'll... dispose of her."

Snape swallowed hard and nodded.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good. Get up and make sure Bellatrix takes the girl to one of the holding rooms. I know she wants to have a little fun, but not yet."

Snape lifted himself from the ground, brushing off the black robes and turning sharply on his heels before leaving the room quickly.

* * *

 

Draco felt sick. He had to get away from the sight, to get the image of the witch who he had been expected to hate bound and helpless on the floor of his hallway. He'd never thought he'd see the day when she looked so vulnerable. She had always been so strong, so independent.

He used to hate how he admired her tenacity and her ability to see what the other two members of the Trio could not. Her intelligence surpassed those of her fellow peers, and while Draco was near the top, she would always be a cut above the rest. It didn't help that she had shed her childish looks and took on a more pronounced appearance in the halls of the Great Wizarding School.

The Slytherin rubbed his temples, trying to remember why he hated her. She was a mudblood—no. She was muggle born. The word felt bitter on his tongue and only used it because his father had taught him to use it. He hated her because his Father told him it was how he was supposed to feel.

There was no good reason to dislike the girl except that they were in separate houses and of course the fact that she had nailed him in the nose their third year.

His fingers brushed along the bridge of his nose, frowning at the memory. She had a good arm that much was for certain. Did she learn that in the muggle world?

Despite his father's influences, Draco was fascinated with the mere idea of the muggles and how they functioned without magic. Though, he'd never give up his abilities to see what it was like, he watched from a distance.

Confusion spread the young wizard, a hatred building not against what she was, but against what he had become. He didn't want this life; he didn't want the tattoo printed on his arm that labeled him a threat. He was forced, pressured by his father, his aunt and of course, from the Dark Lord himself. Only his mother looked on with saddened eyes, knowing what this meant for her only son.

"God Dammit!" He yelled, not caring who heard him at this point.

He ran hasty fingers through his hair, disheveling it before turning to look into a nearby mirror. He'd changed, no longer the mischievous little boy who wanted so greatly to be like his father. His eyes looked hollow and raw and his face was gaunt and paler than usual. It didn't help that he wore a frantic, crazed expression.

Grabbing hold of a metal candle holder, he slammed the end of it into the mirror, shards flying in every direction.

What was he supposed to do now? Sit and watch whatever it was they were going to do to Granger? That's all he ever did; sat back and let it happen. He never acted, never went against orders. He was self-preserving, doing what he had to do in order to survive.

It all seemed pointless now. He knew Potter wouldn't be able to do much without her. He had to do something.

Standing straighter, Draco stared into the remaining fragments of the mirror that hadn't fallen from the frame. His appearance was cracked and distorted but that didn't change the sudden determination in his recently wild eyes. With an idea in his head, he left the broken mirror behind.


	3. Betrayal and a Slight Push

"I wonder what the Dark Lord wants with her... I mean, what's the point in keepin' a mudblood alive?"

"It's not our place t' ask questions. 'sides, she might hear us."

"C'mon, she's out cold. I doubt she'll wake for another few hours."

Hermione had been awake for some time, but she wasn't about to give that away. She remained perfectly still, soft even breaths giving the illusion that she was still asleep. She resisted the urge to start panicking even though she wanted nothing more than to sit up, look around, and cry. In fact, she forced back tears, stifling all attempts of audible sobbing. She may have been strong, but even she had her weak moments.

"Ya hear 'bout what the school's doin'?"

"Raisin' their wands and lightin' up the sky t' the death o' their beloved Headmaster? What a laugh, eh?" One of them scoffed.

Hermione bit down on the inside of her cheek to suppress a gasp as a wave of anguish washed over her body. Dumbledore was dead? Despite all his flaws that were quite plain for her to see, he had been important to Harry. He had pointed him in some directions, albeit he barely gave any of them information and left them in the dark on more than one occasion. However, he was a symbol of hope to many of the students and Harry loved him. Without him, any leads to any Horcruxes he might have known about were dead. But at least Harry and Ron were still out there. The prophecy was still in effect.

She thought back on the private meetings she would have with Dumbledore over afternoon tea. She'd used the time turner in her third year to not only take on more classes, but also speak with Dumbledore about spells and magic. He'd taken an interest in her fascination and when she turned in the Time Turner after her third year, they continued to meet. He possessed knowledge that she craved and so her meetings with him provided much insight into the world of wandless, nonverbal magic. In fact, Hermione was known for spending most of her free time (that wasn't spent with the boys) with professors, perfecting and honing her skills. She showed great promise.

Hermione knew it was time to start thinking of a way to get out of here. She couldn't always rely on her friends and they didn't even know where she was! If she could get to her wand, she'd be able to send out her patronus to find them, or any wand that would sway its allegiance.

There was still the fact that her hands were bound but that worried her less. She could get out of them without a wand. She'd already tested that.

Then again, they could have enchanted them this time. If they were smart enough, that is. The Death Eaters weren't, but she was sure whoever it was in the forest that had gotten her was a pick above the rest.

"I want t' be right up front when the Dark Lord gets a hold o' her! Oh! We'll be in for a treat, I say!"

Their excitement was sickening and Hermione clenched the muscles in her stomach to keep from gagging. Each move they made sent a chill down her spine. How close were they? Were they going to grab her at any moment? Where was she? Hermione didn't dare open her eyes but she relied on her other senses to help her out.

There was a draft, a chill that settled in her bones. The ground was cold to the touch and moist against her face. Stone. She was lying on a stone floor. There was a dripping in the distance and a smell of mold and mildew permeated the air. She could only assume they were underground and from the touch of the stone on her cheek, she determined it was a dungeon.

The sound of rattling chains and moans coming from the cell over drew Hermione's attention, listening in on what the other prisoner was moaning about. What sounded like incoherent mumbling to the Death Eaters sounded like a plea to the young witch.

"Oh no.. Not her. Couldn't be.. She... No..."

Despite the moans being low and raspy from being denied water, the voice sounded familiar and Hermione couldn't put her finger on it. Just who was in the cell beside her? And how long had he been there?

"I suggest you wake the girl. The Dark Lord would like to see her now."

That voice. It was all too familiar to the witch and she felt her skin crawling and her mind racing as she recognized the constant antagonist of her many years at Hogwarts. He'd always been watching the Golden Trio, always getting in the way and yet, he was supposed to be someone they could trust, someone who was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, someone...

"Snape." She spat, rolling over until she sat upright. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light and from that, she could see the form of his snake like body. Hatred filled her very core and if glares could kill, hers would be deadly.

"Seems she's already awake."

Hermione shook with uncontrollable rage. She had forced herself to accept Dumbledore's judgment, though there had always been suspicion when the topic came to the Potion's Master. She tried to see what he saw, how he felt, and why he acted the way he did. She had figured out bits and pieces, some from how Dumbledore spoke of him, parts from what Harry had seen during his Occlumency lessons with the Potion's Master.

"He trusted you... He trusted you and now he's DEAD! He's dead because of you!"

"That's enou-"

"NO! No, it'll never be enough! You betrayed us all! You betrayed the one man who gave you credit despite what everyone thought!"

Why he was allowing her to scream at him, she would never know, but she took advantage of it. Pushing off the ground, Hermione lunged at him, only to fall over with her ankles bound, chin hitting the stone and a ringing filling her head.

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."

A look of irritation passed over his face as the corner of his lip curled in distaste. He reached down and yanked the girl up, not caring if he pulled a few hairs from her head. Hermione let out a gasp as she felt the tip of his wand pressed roughly underneath her jaw. She clamped her mouth shut, teeth grinding together.

"Langlock."

Hermione let out a small cry before her tongue sprung to the roof of her mouth, locking it in place and preventing her from saying anything further. A soft whine escaped the witch before he removed the ropes around her ankles and pushed her forward, wand pressed against her back.

"Don't think it wise to try and escape. I've created spells you wouldn't believe. Each designed to immobilize, even maim if I so wish it. I won't hold back just because you were a student, Granger. We all know what you're capable of."

A scowl fitted on her face as she was pushed forward, leaving the dungeon and the senile prisoner behind.

* * *

 

Harry sat in the Great Hall. He hadn't bothered to change out of his grass stained pants or sweat covered shirt. His hair sat matted to his forehead and all he could think about were his losses. Voldemort had taken away his parents. Bellatrix had taken Sirius, Snape took Dumbledore and now, now they had taken his friend, his confidant. His fingers wrapped around his wand tightly, trying to think rationally but rage blinded him.

"Dammit!" He swore, fist coming down hard on the wooden table. Glass embedded in his skin from shattered goblets from the destruction the Death Eaters had left behind. What had once been a Great place now held such fear and anguish; it made the man sick.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall standing before him, hands clasped together in front of her. She looked resigned, though her posture gave none of that away. She still stood as tall as ever.

"We are sending the students home once a proper ceremony is given..."

He hadn't even thought about the students that were here. In fact, despite being surrounded by all the destruction, his mind was off on its own. He realized then that Ron had already left, saying something about all his family being here. Harry wondered why he hadn't gone with him.

"Yeah.. I suppose that's the next step, isn't it?"

What were they supposed to do now? There were absolutely no leads that he knew of. The Order was at a dead end, having one of their members stabbing them in the back and making off with all of their secrets. Harry had always told them not to trust Snape. He was only in this for himself. Always.

"Mr. Potter… We suggest that you go home with the Weasley's afterwards. The Order will be sending a few trusted Aurors to look after the Burrow. We do have a plan, though we never thought we would have to implement it."

Harry scoffed, standing up from the table and looking down at his feet.

Was he really supposed to sit back and let everyone else take action when he was the one Voldemort wanted? How many lives had to be taken before they realized he should be included in the plan? He was part of a Prophecy wasn't he? Why didn't they take him seriously?

"You really expect me to just sit and wait for him? Wait for the inevitable while people die for me?"

"Of course I don't."

Harry stopped mid-argue, shock registering on his face.

"Mr. Potter, you were never one for rules or laws. And it was good that you weren't. If you had listened to everything we told you, we wouldn't be here right now."

She walked over to him, removing a small bag from her robes and handing it to him. He immediately knew it was Hermione's and was quick to grab it. Where had she gotten it?

"It would seem that Hermione was prepared for the worst. Perhaps, now would be the time to find Mr. Weasley. I'm sure you two have much to discuss."

A grin spread over the boy's face and he almost hugged her, but was quick to restrain himself.

"Thank you, Professor."

With that said, Harry headed for the door.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Be careful."


	4. Getting to Know You

She can only feel fear radiating from her core as the sounds of their footsteps echoed around her with each step they took. She knew who she was about to meet and that alone caused her legs to shake. Every few feet she'd receive a sharp jab between the shoulder blades and every time she'd stumble. Her composure was weak as it was but every bit of pressure caused it to crack a little more.

Up the stairs and around the corner through giant doors and she sees a long dining hall smaller than Hogwarts of course but still grand in a dark and dreary sort of way. Ornate decorations hung along the walls, draped in silver and hints of green; definitely a Slytherin household.

At the end of the table, he sat in what looked like a throne, hands steepled and surprisingly patient. He was as Harry described him that year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament though she was still not prepared. At that moment, she could not restrain the tears that now stained her dirty cheeks. The evil that radiated from him filled the room like a toxic gas, suffocating her. He stood and she immediately stopped walking even with the wand jabbing into her repeatedly.

"Ah, my  _guest is here_."

As he made his way toward her, Snape grasped her shoulder and forced her to her knees before pushing her head down.

"Was your trip agreeable?" His voice dripped with a false sense of concern. She remembered that he was known for his charm when he was younger. Even now, she had a hard time discerning what was real.

"Oh, it seems you've bit off more than you could chew… Let's have a look at you…"

Fingers grab her chin sending out sharp pangs from when she hit it earlier. They were cold and almost scaly in texture against her skin and he lifted her head up to meet his gaze, piercing and unrelenting. She could feel a pressure against her consciousness as if he was trying to enter her mind. She recoiled instantly, tripping over herself and falling back against Snape's feet.

"She  _is_  quite strong! Oh, this will be interesting…"

Snape gave a shift kick to her side, causing her to buckle over and gasp in pain.

"Do you know why you're here, girl?"

She lifted her head just enough to look toward him before letting it hang and shook her head.

"Oh, you will soon. For now, you'll be under my  _care_. I just wanted to take a good,  _long_  look at you before we got to know each other a bit more."

Every word out of his mouth filled her with fear and panic with thoughts of what was to come. What was he planning to do with her? Why hadn't he killed her yet? He despised her kind, and yet, here he was, talking to her almost as if she was like him. Was this just another tactic?

One look at Snape and she was pulled up off the ground and dragged toward the exit.

"Oh, and one more thing Ms. Granger. I hope you won't  _hold back_  from me again. We all know just what I'm capable of doing."

That said, Snape pulled her out of the room. Instead of bringing her back down into the dungeon, they ascended a grand staircase and into a hallway lined with rooms. Entering the one at the end, he shoved her to the floor.

"This will be your quarters. Don't even think about trying to escape. It's already been modified to contain a witch of your… potential."

A flick of his wrist and her tongue peeled from the roof of her mouth and the ropes fall from her wrists. As soon as she felt herself free, she mustered her strength and propelled herself forward, but he already closed the door behind him. She slammed against the door, the wood reacting as if it was reinforced with metal. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing.

* * *

 

"Oh Draaaaaacooooo."

Her voice caused him to freeze up and turn slowly, eyes narrowing. Lestrange practically skips toward him, arms draped over his shoulders as she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

" _The Dark Lord requests your presence_."

She practically squealed in delight at the look of horror that briefly flashed across his face. Was this it? His mission was to kill Dumbledore. He failed. Was he to be punished? The man was dead. The job was done. But, the fact of the matter was he couldn't follow through. There were questions that needed answered.

Draco took a deep breath before pushing her arms off of him and heading toward the dining hall.

He stood in front of the door for a moment, afraid that he'd be signing his death certificate if he opened it. Yet, the longer he kept the Lord waiting, the more risk he put himself in as well. He knocked once before opening the door.

"Ah, Draco. Nice of you to finally come. Don't be shy. Come forward."

He still couldn't get used to being in the Dark Lord's presence. Each second filled him with terror and pain. There was no way to describe the feeling he got being next to him.

"I understand how difficult this must be for you."

He was frozen, eyes wide. Had no one told him it was Snape who killed Dumbledore? Or perhaps he knew, and it wasn't as big of a deal as he thought. Instead of asking, he remained quiet, swallowing hard.

"I have a task for you, something I believe only you can do." He pauses. "Guard the mudblood. I'm sure you're aware that she's here. News travels fast amongst the house. I want you to make her feel like there's a chance for her to survive. That there's  _hope_. She needs some kind of…  _confidant_  before everything is ripped away from her. She'll perform better if she has that strength."

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. What exactly was the Dark Lord planning? Why did he want her to give her this false sense of security? Would it really help them?

"She hates my guts… my Lord..."

"Well then,  _make her_  trust you. I'm sure you of all people can find a way. Leave now. Bring her some food. See what you can do tonight."

Draco turned and headed for the door.

"Oh, and Draco, don't fail me again. Snape can't save you here."


	5. Survive

"What is that?"

Harry held the small bag in his hands trying to present some unfinished plan to Ron. Hermione was better at this than he was. In fact, she was better at everything than all of them. She was always three steps ahead in every way.

"Apparently, Hermione wasn't expecting us to return for our Seventh year. She knew we had a job to do. This is her bag. She enchanted it with an expansion charm. Clothes for a couple weeks, books, potions…"

Harry was astounded by the sheer volume of items stored in the bag. She was always prepared for the worst and the fact that their Sixth year was just finishing, and she already had this, she might have had some clue as to where to start.  _Maybe_.

"We need to look through her bag, see if maybe she left any clues. She does more research than all the Gryffindors combined. Maybe she knows where the Death Eaters are hiding or where they could be."

"She's not gonna last long, Harry. She's muggleborn! Bloody hell, I can't… I can't imagine what they might do…"

The distraught look on his face put a wrench in Harry's gut. Both of their hearts panged for their friend and what could be happening to her.

"All the more reason to get started."

* * *

As soon as Draco left the room, he released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He was not in as good graces as he once was and now he was tasked with  _caring_  for the Granger girl. Every fiber of his being felt that this was a trap to test his loyalty. His plans were made that much simpler, but it was too easy. Had the Dark Lord read his mind? Did he know what he was planning to do?

Thankfully, Bellatrix was nowhere to be found and he could slip into the kitchen without being seen. House elves shuffled about, working as diligently as they could with the pressures the Dark Lord's presence put upon them. A plate had already been made for their prisoners and he was surprised by the quality of food he would be bringing her. It seemed so uncharacteristic of them all to go to such lengths for someone who was being kept against their will.

Draco took the plate and ascended the grand staircase to where the girl was being held. A simple charm allowed for him to see through the door, but she could see nothing. It was uncomfortable to see the once strong Gryffindor crumbled against the bed post in tears.

He wasn't sure whether to disturb her or leave her to her own devices. Orders from the Dark Lord himself, however, could not be ignored and he sucked it up and fazed through the door, a feat only the Malfoy's of the household could do.

"Eat this."

His voice startled her, and she looked up first in surprise but quickly replaced with disgust. He set the tray down on the desk and before he could leave, she was standing.

"How dare you show your face to me after everything you've done."

He doubted she knew what happened exactly, but some of the lower Death Eaters were practically singing the news of Dumbledore's death. He said nothing, eyes narrowing and avoiding her fierce eyes. It seemed to agitate her more.

"You bloody prick!"

It was a matter of seconds before she was at him, fists banging against his chest. He was surprised she had any strength left at all. Then again, her hits were weak in comparison to that punch she threw a few years back.

He let her hit him. Draco knew that if he let her have her way, she'd be hitting him for hours. Instead he grabbed hold of her wrists hard enough to bruise.

"Enough. That's enough! Get a hold of yourself. This is just embarrassing."

He could feel her weight shift as her legs could no longer support her and she fell. He still gripped her wrists as she rested on her knees. With a roll of his eyes, he squats down beside her, releasing his hold only when he felt she couldn't lift them.

"You can't do anything in this condition. You're not that stupid to think you can."

He forced her face up to look at him.

"I suggest you eat what I've brought you. Who knows when your next meal will be."

Getting up, he thought to just leave her there, but the Dark Lord's words echoed in his mind. She was so pathetic and broken as she was. There seemed to be no hope left in her.

Sighing, Draco walked around, slipping his arms under her armpits and lifting her almost effortlessly to her feet. Was she always this light? He led her to the ottoman at the foot of the bed and rested her there. Her eyes looked glazed over and it was when he was getting a good look at her that he noticed the large bump on her head and the cut under her chin.

He scowled. She had done this to herself by trying to fight back. She should have just surrendered. Perhaps she would have been in better condition.

"I said eat."

"Why bother? I'd rather die."

"If you die, you won't be able to help Potter." She seemed shocked by his statement, looking at him quizzically. "We all know those two couldn't come up with a plan even if it was laid out in front of them. They'll need you."

He felt sick as the words fell off his tongue. How was he supposed to get this girl to trust him like the Dark Lord wanted? Everything he said caused his stomach to flip. He wasn't one to comfort anyone, not even his own family. This was foreign to him.

"They're probably trying to find you now. It'd be a shame if you're dead when they did."

He was blunt, and she was not expecting it indicated by the following silence. Never would he think Hermione Granger would be speechless. He stood and grabbed the plate of food, bringing it to her.

"So, eat. Eat for your friends. Because no one is going to save you if you can't save yourself first."

It was strange to watch her listen to him, uncomfortable even. His skin crawled as he watched her slowly nibble on the bread dunked in the stew. He took this time to examine the wounds on her face. They looked shallow, but he couldn't tell the extent of the damage to her head. Pulling out his wand, she froze.

"Relax… Accio Dittany."

It didn't take long for the plant to appear in his hands. Rather than a topical cream, he knew the raw plant, when consumed, could heal her type of wounds. He crushed the plant in his hands and sprinkled it in her stew.

"Eat more."

He didn't have to tell her what Dittany was, or what it could do. She was smart enough to know it. She was hesitant at first but after a few moments, devoured the rest of the food on the plate. Why he stayed to make sure she ate, he wasn't sure, but by the time she finished, he could tell how exhausted she was. He took that as his cue.

"Rest. Who knows what tomorrow has in store for you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"…I must do what the Dark Lord asks of me…"

"Did he really tell you to treat me with this… kindness? He knows what I am… You are still the same boy who hated  _mudbloods_  from the beginning."

"You're right. I haven't changed." Could he really say that truthfully? The past three years have been more complicated than he'd care to admit, ever since the Dark Lord returned.

"Just do as you're told. Survive."

That being said, he stood and ignored anything more she had to say and fazed through the door.

* * *

Hermione watched him leave despite her protests. She was disgusted with herself that she was willing to accept his company. After everything he had done to her and her friends and could only assume he was involved in Dumbledore's death, the fact that she preferred his company over anyone else's in this Manor frightened her. What bothered her more was what he said made sense to her.

"I must be exhausted to end up agreeing with Malfoy…" She muttered.

At least she had a bed to sleep in. She didn't trust any part of this scenario. Being surrounded by the enemy and yet being given basic comforts like actual food and a room was a tactic she read about once in a muggle book. Stockholm's Syndrome was real, and she was not about to allow herself to become the victim.

She'll play along, like Malfoy said despite her mind screaming at her for listening to him. She had to survive, for Harry and Ron. She had to maintain hope.


	6. A Breath Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys. Sorry for the delay! Had some internet problems and complications with work so I had to get that settled. Enjoy and constructive criticism is always welcome!

 

"It's been two weeks. How long are you going to pamper the girl? Each day she gains strength. Don't you want her to be weak and begging at your feet? M'Lord…"

Severus stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He watched the Death Eaters who gathered before the Dark Lord. Speaking out of turn would cause a great disruption in his thoughts and he watched as the man, Macnair, fell to his knees. He looked to be in great pain and it took a second to realize that the Dark Lord's wand was raised and pointed at him. Snape lowered his head and said nothing, as did the rest of them.

"How can I learn why she has such power if I weaken her? I need to  _see_  it with my own eyes,  _taste_  the power coming from her. I  _need_  to strip her of everything she has before I let her beg. And then, I will kill her when she is no longer useful."

This was not news to anyone. Why the man would question the Dark Lord was beyond the former Potion's Master. This could only bring trouble for them. Yet, even Snape was curious exactly what he had in store for the girl. He seemed out of character but he could not question his methods. There had to be another motive for what he was doing.

Voldemort turned to face them now, eyes menacing and filled with blood lust.

"The world will be purified of mudbloods. Any magic they have should be taken away from them. We are the true rulers of this world. And we will take what we deserve."

* * *

For two weeks, Draco had been bringing her food twice a day. She would eat like he told her. It was strange to see her compliant with the Death Eaters but he soon learned that no one else had visited her. In fact, the hallway she was located was usually completely deserted save for a house elf or two. With all the wards and protections up, there was no way she could escape on her own and so she was left to her own devices. No clock, no way of knowing what was going on in the outside world. He was her only sense of normality in this new world of hers. Was this what the Dark Lord wanted?

He, too, avoided almost everyone. They did not try to bother him as they once did. He went about undisturbed. Even Bellatrix did not stop him. His mother was off on other business and his father spent most days with the Dark Lord. Draco chose to avoid him most of all. And so, Hermione was his only contact with another person, something he secretly craved unbeknownst to even himself.

As he approached, he looked through the door and everything around him seemed to freeze. Though her back was to him, he couldn't bring himself to look away. A house elf had given her fresh clothes so that she wouldn't have to stay in the ones she was brought in wearing. Only now did she choose to change out of them.

Her skin looked soft despite what he knew she'd been through over the past few years at Hogwarts. He couldn't help but watch the way her back arched as she removed her shirt and the shoulder blades moved underneath her skin. Eyes traveled down her spine to where she appeared to have dimples on her hips.

Draco wasn't sure how long he stood there watching her, even after she was finished changing and now rested idly on the bed. He was flushed and thoughts filled him, preventing him from taking a step forward into the room.

"I'm a filthy pervert to think of a mud—..." Was that really how he felt or was that just his conditioning? His father's influence certainly reached his young ears at one point and he would have done anything to please his father, but now? He was told that he didn't have to think the same way, that he could have his own opinions. What exactly did he believe?

* * *

"Dinner's ready…"

She looked up as he entered the room and set the platter on the desk like usual. It had been a routine the two of them had become accustomed to now. Hermione wasn't overtly pleased with it but she couldn't argue. Draco was the least worrisome of the Death Eaters she knew were here. She couldn't believe there would ever be a time where she preferred Draco over another.

"Are you leaving so soon?"

He had turned, ready to head back out. Lately, he'd been staying a bit longer, offering trivial conversations to pass the time. Yet, tonight seemed different. There was something on his mind. Had he seen her changing? He may have entered only moments after she had decided to change but the door was solid. That couldn't be it.

"Doesn't matter whether I stay or go. We both know what this is."

"Tell me then, what you think this is."

He turned to look at her, his eyes mixed with different emotions that she could not quite pinpoint. It startled her to think he could have such complex thoughts while being raised in such a narrow-minded household.

"You're a captive. That's all you'll be here. Don't seek comfort in me when there is none. You don't want this."  _Don't trust me, please._  "You're only like this because I'm the only one you see every day now. You shouldn't lower your guard here."

Why did everything he say make sense to her? How could he be the sensible of the two? Brows narrowed and a scowl spread across her face. Nails cut into the flesh of her palm as she balled her hands into fists.

"What am I here for…?"

Draco released a heavy sigh before taking a seat on the bed. He looked like he was contemplating telling her. How much did he know? Part of her knew she was going to die here if no one came. Surely Voldemort wouldn't keep a muggleborn alive for very long.

"I don't know. I just know that you're here. That he wants you here, and that he wants you fed. I don't know what he's going to do to you but it won't be good."

"…Why are you telling me this? You could choose not to answer… I'm just a filthy mudbl—"

"Don't call yourself that!"

The anger in his voice startled her. He also looked surprised by his own outburst. She was silent for a long moment.

"You know… You were the first person to ever call me that to my face."

He opened his mouth only to close it without uttering a word. Was he ashamed? He was too proud to ask for forgiveness, but was that what he wanted?

"My father taught me many things. But, so did my mother. I'm no longer trying to impress my father. He's pathetic, the way he grovels. That's not the man I want to be…"

He was sharing more than she thought he ever would. Perhaps he was right. She was only like this because he was all she saw. No one else came. She didn't know whether Snape was still around and she was glad she hadn't seen Voldemort since their first meeting. But to say there was no comfort in him… That would be a lie. Having this semi-normal conversation was a comfort.

She reached out tentatively and rested a hand on his shoulder. He tensed underneath the contact but didn't pull away. She felt strange having this heart to heart with who was once considered a sworn enemy. Could she really hold a grudge against him? He was forced into this life just as she was, albeit they reacted in very different ways.

"There was a time where I thought the Dark Lord would not return. That we would live our lives resenting each other, but my family had money. I would not want for nothing and I would never have to worry about another person. I'd still be pompous and an arse. I'd be like my father, forever."

"You're still an arse…"

A forced chuckle escaped him and she even smiled slightly. A hand ran through his hair, pushing it from his face before taking a good, long look at her with such an intensity, she felt shivers run down her spine.

"I have to go."

It was so sudden that Hermione took a moment to realize he was already by the door.

"Wait!"

It didn't take her long to grab hold of his arm but he reacted quicker. As soon as she touched him, he turned. One hand grabbed hold of her wrist, the other was pressed against her neck and they both collided into the wall, knocking the air from her lungs. Gasping, she reached to hold onto the wrist near her neck for support. Despite the forcefulness, she felt no pain and he did not squeeze.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you myself…"

His fingers tightened but not enough to cause any serious harm. Instead, her face grew redder by the second. Despite how much of a power play this was, she could feel a slight shake in his voice, in his hands even. He was so close, she could see how ice cold his eyes truly were.

"Y-You're not capable of killing anyone…"

His eyes searched her for something, but she did not know what he was looking for. She swallowed hard.

"How could you possibly know what I'm capable of?" he spat through gritted teeth.

"You're not your father…"

His eyes widened and at first he looked furious but that seemed to melt away quicker than she expected. She didn't know what to expect with him anymore.

They stayed this way for several seconds, him looking at her as if she had answers and her desperately trying to lower her beating heart and savoring the breaths she remembered to take. He pulled away eventually and without another word, left through the door.


End file.
